


The Unspeakable Assassin

by AwesomePossum024



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24977218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomePossum024/pseuds/AwesomePossum024
Summary: When a mission to catch a criminal gang proves to be elusive, Senior Auror Harry Potter calls in the mysterious Unspeakable 007 to solve it. But will 007 be able to put aside his past and focus on getting the mission complete? Rated T for violence and cussing.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	The Unspeakable Assassin

**CONTENT WARNING: The following story contains several immoral acts including murder and near-torture. These are performed by one royally messed-up person. I do not condone any of these acts.**

* * *

Harry swore as he beheld the scene in front of him – two dead people, both oozing blood from identical blackened wounds. A simple charm cast on the wounds confirmed for sure what Harry had already known. Dark magic was at play here. He turned out their pockets for identification. No wands, no magical items visible – a wallet turned out to have a driving license and some ten-pound bills. _Muggles._

He waved his wand, thinking of his best memories – a kiss with his wife, the moment he had beheld his son for the first time – " _ **EXPECTO PATRONUM!**_ "

A majestic stag erupted from the end of Harry's wand. "We have a Code 0100100 here. Victims identifiable as two Muggles and were dead on arrival. No witnesses in the vicinity. Will report ASAP." The stag galloped off, bound for the Auror Office.

Harry trudged out of the door and his partner on the mission, Auror Proudfoot looked at him with horror. "Not again!"

"Even cleaner than last time – the warehouse is absolutely wiped. No magical signatures, no signs of any spells being cast save the fact that the two Muggles inside have been cursed with something Dark. Also dead on arrival – no chance of Mungo's helping with that."

Proudfoot looked at a weary Harry Potter – Senior Auror at the age of twenty-five – and the old man's heart went out. When Harry had joined the Corps there had been no little amount of hero-worship, but Proudfoot had never seen Potter play anyone – he was a simple and honest chap, and his dedication was first and foremost to his work. The one thing he could easily understand the boy's desire for was a nice and eventless work experience.

"Reckon I've dealt with enough of the dark shite for a lifetime," he'd said on one occasion. "Why can't I just get simple cases? I don't mind tracking down an old lady's cat now, honestly, if it means I get some quiet."

It was not to be. His first years had been marked by protests demanding heavier penalties on the Death Eaters who had been captured – and when _that_ had finally appeared to come under control, this had happened.

"Seventh such incident," he mentioned to Harry, who nodded before speaking up. "Every time the setting seems to be the same, too. Muggle warehouse, no other wizards or witches in the vicinity. This one was wiped clean, but the previous ones had traces of some of the more… _vivacious_ potions, if you remember – the stuff that makes you a little happier." They both shared a smirk before falling into silence. Narcotic potions were not an illegal market in themselves – just very strictly regulated. The fact that they had seen traces of it in a Muggle warehouse, however, was very concerning. The knowledge that these incidents came on the back of reports of acute sicknesses among some Muggles due to narcotic overdoses just made it even worse.

Harry's shoulders were still shaking a bit, and the old man put his arms around him. "Let's get the report done quick, and we'll pop over to the Leaky Cauldron – they've got them Happy Hours tonight."

Harry snorted. "I don't think that's going to be an option. This is the seventh incident – which means Savage will insist on informing the top boss. King's gonna be pissed."

* * *

'King' was indeed extremely pissed.

"How is it that despite _all_ our efforts, these criminals are evading us? Chief Auror Savage _assures_ me that you have been doing everything in your powers, but I must say that these incidents have raised serious questions of the competency of the Auror depart-"

"With all due respect, sir, we could blast down the damn warehouse and kill everyone but that wouldn't achieve anything. This is clearly an organized ring and killing one will simply alert the others. Besides killing is not something that the Auror department is assigned license with except for self-defence. You _know_ that, from your own time as a prolific Auror." Harry retorted angrily. "Also, I would like to raise the point that we have been severely compromised by the Hit Wizards on patrol, who have clearly shown no great attachment to the law and have been extremely lax in reporting such incidents!"

The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed as he sat on his plush armchair. Beside Harry, Proudfoot's eyes widened. He had known that Harry didn't back down when he knew he was right, but to face up the Minister like he had? _Kid's got some serious guts_ , he mused and then smirked to himself. _Then again, he did do what no one in the rest of the Wizarding Britain had the balls to._

"Look, Harry, you've to understand that public opinion-" Harry's look of polite incredulity made Kingsley smile. "Of course, you don't care about that. Sorry, the post is rubbing off on me – all the politicking is making me like this. Fine, tell me what the problem is."

"The problem is that this is an organized ring of criminals who not only have planned everything meticulously, they've also got some kind of leverage on the local Hit Wizards," Harry said. "Intel has been delayed _just_ the right amount every time, and today the warehouse was wiped as well. It's a simple matter of illegal narcotic potions trade, but it's exacerbated by the fact that _Muggles_ are the ones who're being sold this." Kingsley's expression changed to that of horror, and Harry smiled grimly. "Reports of unintended side effects and the like are already trickling in. My guess is that the Muggle middlemen were uncomfortable with the trade after they started to see the effects, and so they refused to continue further deals. The gang wiped all traces just to make sure no one squealed."

Kingsley was back in Minister mode. "The fact of the matter is that violation of the Statute of Secrecy is an ICW jurisdiction, and if we don't clear this up fast they'll drag us in again just so that they can sneer at our supposed incompetency." Both Harry and Proudfoot sniggered at this, and Kingsley scowled. "It's not funny, they do it just because they need an issue to debate _all_ the time. You're saying there's no hope of finding out who these people are?"

Proudfoot took over seamlessly. "Might take more time than you like. Parallel teams are a possibility, but this seems like a remarkably organized gang – far more than the usual backyard stuff. I doubt we'll be able to take them captive even if we trace them – an encounter would be on the cards, and lethal spells from their side will mean reciprocation if all the members of our team want to live."

Kingsley nodded. "Take two weeks and put every free person on the job. I'll have a word with Dave and see whether he can whip the Hit Wizards into line. If nothing comes up in two weeks, we'll have to call the Unspeakables in – they're the ones who deal with outright Statute of Secrecy violations." Harry and Proudfoot nodded. "They'll appreciate intel of any type, however, so can I trust you lot to do your best?"

"Wouldn't dream of anything lesser, King," Harry smirked, and was rewarded by a faint blush tinge the man's dark cheeks at the use of 'King'. "We'll file the report in and have a copy sent to you, in case you want to look through it. You've been on the job as well, maybe you spot something we've missed?" Shacklebolt nodded.

* * *

"We're going to have to call the Unspeakables in," Harry began tentatively.

"Care to tell me why, Potter?" Savage growled. Harry resisted the urge to up the ante as well. It was a well-known fact among the Auror Corps that Savage _hated_ the Unspeakables being called in since they were not held accountable for any damages caused. The Aurors were, however, and Savage had to _constantly_ file paperwork and reports explaining why certain damage was caused and why it possibly couldn't have been averted.

"For starters, we have intel but it's not the most reliable – it's from ole' Mundungus Fletcher. In the case that we walk into a straight-out trap, license to kill isn't an Auror permission – you know that from the Fawley case." Savage nodded grudgingly. "The Unspeakables have pretty much free reign in Statute violations, so you'd have the gang either dead or trussed up in Azkaban with much lesser problems."

"The second thing is the magic being used – this is more or less among the darkest magic we've seen since the war. It's one of Voldemort's supporters, that much's for sure from the type of spells being used – they're just being a bit smarter than Riddle himself was." Harry resisted the urge to smirk when Savage flinched at 'Voldemort'. _Some things never change_. "Dark magic means we need a trained enchanter _and_ a capable fighter, and we're a bit short-staffed with the former at the moment."

Savage grunted, and Harry was amused to see warring emotions contort the Chief Auror's face before he marshalled his features into control. "Fine. But I'm not speaking to Croaker. He's been an arse all year, refusing to give even the slightest bit of intel and gloating over every mistake we've made. Do you know someone in the Department? Someone with a direct line to Croaker?"

Harry nodded, his expression pensive. "As a matter of fact, I do."

* * *

Unspeakable 007 was mildly annoyed when the Floo rang – he had been working on a rather interesting puzzle. "Yes?"

"It's me, Harry."

"Come on in," he called, and Harry stepped out onto the rug, dusting his clothes. "Something's the matter? A rather unusual time to call, this."

"You've seen the reports on the warehouses? The ones with the narcotic potions?"

"Of course I have, it was all over the _Prophet_. Seemed like a standard case to me – or do you think something else?"

"Dark magic on all the wounds – but the sites were wiped clean," Harry explained. "No signs of any magical signatures, no traces left, nothing. Clean as a whistle, and you know when the last time was that we saw this."

"It's not _him_ , is it? Just one of his followers?"

"Yeah. Also, I'd rather you not reveal this but I asked around and the description _may_ match that of Augustus Rookwood."

There was a sharp intake of breath. "How certain are you?"

"Not very, but enough that I thought you should take a look."

"Am I authorized? As I understand it, the Corps handle all criminal cases. Except…"

"…Statute of Secrecy violations," Harry finished grimly. "This fits the bill, and Savage's asked me to play middle man – you know how he is with Croaker. He's calling the Department in, doesn't want to risk anything."

"Is that his decision or did you help things a bit?"

"I shall neither confirm nor deny any such accusations," Harry deadpanned, and Unspeakable 007 laughed. "Fair enough. I'll let Croaker know. I'll keep you posted with the developments."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to take this assignment, 007?"

"Positive, sir. It's been quite some time since I've been in the field – I thought a bit of sunshine might do me good."

Croaker snorted. "A long time, indeed – you've not been in the action for an entire month! I was worried that you might invent a mission if the interval stretched any longer." The rest of the Unspeakables sniggered. 007 was infamous for being the Unspeakables' most active field agent – he wanted _every_ single assignment.

Croaker suddenly looked suspicious. "Who gave you this intel? I don't want my agents to walk into a setup, after all."

"Harry Potter, sir."

Croaker nodded with a rather stern look. "Good, that boy doesn't mess around. If it had been Savage, I wouldn't have been so sure." A part of 007 noted idly that Harry's suspicions had been true. "You'll need a partner, isn't it?"

"I think 007 will be amenable to my presence," a woman's voice tinkled in dulcet tones.

"No, I will not," an exasperated 007 began. The woman held up a finger and turned to the other agents. "Any of you lot up for the job?"

Not a single hand went up – everyone seemed to be trying to hide their snickering. "Love birds," he heard one of them whisper, and 007 fumed internally. _Damnit, she's convinced everyone to stay off_. _Also, why on earth does everyone think we're together?_

"Very well, then," Croaker said. "007, 004, I wish you luck. I hope that I will not have to remind you to file the reports once done. And for Merlin's sake, 007, try not to kill _everyone_. A few captives look nice once in a while. I know you're licensed but that doesn't mean…"

"Are we done here?" 007 said, yawning. Croaker glared at him and he looked back unapologetically. "I've told you, if you don't like my methods then simply give me a desk job. If not, then trust me to do the job the way I know it."

Croaker continued to glare but finally sighed. "At least _try_. You're our best man, I can't possibly take you off the job."

007 nodded. He sauntered out of the room, 004 trailing behind him.

* * *

"007!" 004 called, huffing as she caught up to him.

"For someone who's rather averse to the idea of the outdoors, you sure did seem very eager to get back to the field," 007 snarled.

"What can I say? I _love_ the outdoors when I'm with a bad boy," she smirked. 007 whirled around and she nearly ran into him trying to stop.

"You think this is some sort of joke? Do you have _any_ idea of the things I've done in the field? You may have been in the Unspeakables for longer than me, but let's face it – I have thrice the amount of field experience you have. Just because you've gone on a few missions doesn't change the fact that…" he trailed off.

The woman's eyes, however, were blazing. "What? What doesn't it change?"

007 sighed. "Look, I don't want you to get repulsed by me, alright?"

"Too late for _that_ ," she said, eyes still blazing. "You should've thought of that before you killed _every single_ person involved in _any_ kind of Death Eater business, even if they didn't know – quite literally, in some cases due to the Imperius – what they'd signed up for. But at least you could _attempt_ to become someone better. All of us lost someone in the war. That doesn't mean we try to get revenge on every single occasion possible."

"Easy for you to say, taking the _moral high ground_ ," 007 growled. "It's not your brother they killed."

004's eyes dulled with pain and she smiled sadly. "No, not my _brother._ Just almost all my friends, isn't it?" She walked away, leaving 007 alone to his thoughts.

* * *

" _ **BOMBARDA!**_ "

The explosion rocked the pillar, but 007 was faster – he had rolled before the spell had hit. " _ **CONFRINGO!**_ " he cried, and his opponent was thrown off his feet.

007 checked to see who was left standing – _one, two, three, damnit._ His brain worked furiously as he tried to see all the angles, the possibilities that he had. Suddenly his eyes gleamed and he grinned madly. _I may not survive this._ Then he laughed, a maniacal laugh with madness beneath it. _Since when have I cared about surviving anyway? This one's for you, brother._

He stepped out from behind the pillar and the other person cried, " _ **STUPEFY!**_ "

A bright, shimmering blue shield stopped the Stunner with ease. With his left hand, 007 drew a knife and threw it dead-straight. A soft _squelch_ signalled that the knife had found its target in the man's heart. He deactivated the shield again and rolled, just in time as a spell whooshed past where his head had been.

007 frowned. "Boys, play nice," he chided. "Dark spells aren't on the curriculum!"

" _ **SECTUMSEMPRA!**_ "

 _Damnit_. He rolled again, _barely_ escaping the dark cutting curse. _That's a Death Eater for sure. But that's not Augustus – he would never learn one of_ _ **Snape**_ _'_ _ **s**_ _spells._ Augustus Rookwood had been somewhat of an enigma in Unspeakable circles despite his betrayal, and every Unspeakable had discussed the topic at least once. The rivalry between the Potions master and Rookwood had been oddly personal. _Must've been which of them wanted to suck-up to the Dark Tosser more._

" _ **BOMBARDA DIABOLICUS!**_ "

_Oh shite. Shite damn fuck crap shite._

A huge **BOOM!** sounded as an entire row of pillars was blown to smithereens. Several more rattled, and the resulting shockwaves led to a huge cloud of dust. 007 was hit by a falling piece of the ceiling as he ran and winced. Hiding behind a wall, he sighed. _Should've expected this._ He muttered several incantations under his breath, and within seconds was covered head-to-toe in a protective shell.

The shockwaves went on for some time and when they finally stopped, 007 stepped out. _Please, let one person be conscious. Just one._ A hacking cough broke the silence of the air, and 007 grinned. _Oh yes._

He walked in swift strides, trying to locate the survivor. Spotting a man on his haunches doubled over in pain, he walked over. A few quick mutterings and waves of the wand fixed him up, and he stared at 007 with fear.

"I won't hurt you, not unless you refuse to cooperate," 007 comforted him. "Do you know Augustus Rookwood?"

The man shook his head. 007 sighed, and took out a photo from his pocket. "Have you met this man?"

The man nodded and 007 felt a spark of excitement. "Where?"

"He is the top boss. We don't deal much with him, he just came once to see if everything was okay."

"What exactly have you been doing here?"

The man shook his head again. 007 felt frustration rise. He took out the dagger he had retrieved and held it at the man's throat.

"This is an enchanted dagger, dipped in Stygian water," 007 said. "It is a device designed to loosen tongues and make it a bit easier to remember things. Trust me, you do _not_ want me to use it on you." The man's eyes widened in fear. "Now, _what have you been doing here?_ "

"Brewing the good stuff." 007 nodded. _Harry's hunch was right, excellent. Makes things easier._

"Where will we find your top boss?"

The man began to speak, "In the-"

" _ **AVADA KEDAVRA!**_ "

007's eyes widened. _Oh shite. Looks like one more was awake after all._

* * *

Before 007 could do anything, he felt the spell encounter a metallic barrier with a clang. "Tsk, tsk. The great 007, master of the field almost getting killed because he didn't watch his back? You're becoming lax," a female voice called out. 007 groaned. _I'm never going to hear the end of this._

 _You almost got_ _ **killed**_ _and you're worried about getting teased?_ a part of him chided.

" _ **CRUC-**_ "

007 whirled around to find the man's wand flying – he had been wordlessly disarmed. 004 stepped out from behind a wall, her long blonde hair whipping behind her. " _ **STUPEFY!**_ "

The man hit the floor and remained down.

"What are you doing here?" 007 gritted out. 004 raised an eyebrow.

"My, someone is touchy," she said coolly. "Rather hypocritical, all things said and done, don't you think?"

007 flushed with embarrassment. "Look, what I said…"

"We'll speak later," she cut him off. "Right, now, more important things to deal with." She waved her wand casually and a jet of red light hit the scared man behind 007 who was trying to sneak away. He fell to the ground.

"Where is your top boss?" 007 asked, enunciating the sentence.

The man reached into his pocket. Both agents tensed, but he withdrew a business card.

"Seriously?"

The address on the top named a factory in Surrey. "He's probably packaging it there since it's easier to ship it without arousing suspicion," 004 mused. "Must be a small unit, just for local goods."

"He's changed the last name, you reckon?" 007 asked, pointing it out. _Augustus Milverton._

004 smirked. "Yeah, that's a fake if I've ever seen one."

"What's funny?

"Just a Muggle thing. Wonder what Voldemort would do if he found out that his ardent follower read Muggle fiction books."

"Right, we'll talk about that later," 007 snapped. "Right now, we have an operation to finish." He waved his wand muttering " _ **EXPECTO PATRONUM**_ " and a shining white beaver materialized. "Send in a clean-up team. Fixers only – no Muggle witnesses so no Obliviators needed. Also, five wizards here – take them into custody based on suspected involvement in the Narcotics case."

The Patronus ran swiftly – 007 had directed it to the Ministry Hit Wizard Office. He stomped out of the obliterated warehouse, and 004 rolled her eyes. _Why does the prat insist on being so bloody obstinate?_ She ran out behind 007.

"You're magically exhausted, physically battered and yet insist on storming the bastion of one of the most notorious Death Eaters? Sometimes, I wonder where that smart boy from Hogwarts went."

007 stopped. "He died. And I'd request you to _stop_ bringing that up, but you'll insist anyway like you always do. So, _sod off._ I don't need your help, I can handle this alone."

"Like you handled that Killing Curse to your back?"

"I would have moved-"

"For Merlin's sake, at least stop being a prat! Your ego is worse than it ever was, your attitude is stupid and if you get killed _I_ am the one who has to file a report explaining why the heck you were alone instead of with me! So, stop giving me that bullshit and actually _listen!_ When I'm done explaining, you can bloody well do whatever you want."

007 was about to retort but her point about the report stopped him. _I can't report completing the assignment alone, true._ He nodded, forcing down his anger .

"Excellent. My plan _was_ that we camp somewhere here for the night, and tomorrow morning take him by surprise as he opens his factory. That'll not only help with the magical and physical exhaustion, it'll also mean that they'd not have received the news yet in all likeliness since the owl office will be closed by now and only opens by ten in the morning. But if you're going to be all bloody high-and-mighty, you can go in now. Just send in a memo to the Department explaining why you thought it necessary to die when you could have waited so you're not leaving me to clean up your mess!"

007 looked at 004 with a strange expression. "I'd forgotten how cute you look when you get worked up into these little outbursts."

"Shut up, you buffoon! I have _never_ seen a more insensitive git than you in my life! It still amazes me how we dated in Hogwarts, and why I still bother trying to make you remember that wonderful person you were before you became all prissy."

007 raised his hands. "I'm sorry, your plan sounds nice. We'll go with it."

"Oh yes, _now_ agree with my plan. Brilliant!"

* * *

The fire had been rather cosy in the chill night. Both agents had found themselves content to sit in front of it and eat in silence, watching the flames flicker. They had grabbed food from a nearby restaurant, as well as camping gear from a shed 004 knew. When 007 had asked her about it, she'd blushed. "We used to come down here for a school trip. I think it belongs to one of those tourist guides."

Well rested and fed, 007 was reminiscing about old memories before he was jolted out of his musings by 004.

"Why do you insist on doing it to yourself?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"Oh come on, you know what I mean. You're not someone who can kill in cold blood, I know you better than that. You had trouble when Snape asked us to use animal ingredients because you were worried sick that the poor animals had suffered in the process that they used to extract them. So why do you do it? Why force yourself?"

"I'm not the same person I was then."

004 snorted. "What's it with you and agreeing to what I say ten minutes _after_ I've said it? Of course you're not the same person. I don't expect you to be, either. The war damaged all of us. But somehow, I find it a little difficult to believe that you could become a cold-blooded killer _despite_ everything. So why do you force yourself to kill?"

007 sighed. "Because he had a life ahead of them, and they took that away. He was so young, so bright – knew how to have fun but yet had a keen intellect." His face hardened. " _They_ should know what it feels like as well."

"And the rest of your family? You've stopped thinking about them? They've been through the same thing, surely they've coped-"

" _They_ weren't a right git before things went balls-up. That was me. I should've been there for him."

"Survivor's guilt is a common enough condition when-"

"Are you seriously trying to tell me what _survivor's guilt_ is?"

004 smiled sadly. "The best of us could do with reminders."

"I _know_ what I feel. That doesn't lessen it, only makes it even worse." He looked at her in the eye. "You want to know why I kill? It's because after the war, there was nothing left. Just dull pain, a hollow emptiness in my heart – that I did too little, too late. The system is corrupt from the roots. People like Harry or Hermione have been trying their best, but every day I read about Purebloods with the right influences who sneak their way through one or the other legal loophole. Whether you want to admit it or not, _they return_. The crimes never stop, the filth never leaves the streets. You saw the case yesterday – the violated Muggleborn?"

004 nodded hesitantly. "You think it was a coincidence that the witnesses suddenly forgot details? Rosier has the money and the connections to pull, he did just that. The Wizengamot may be impartial, but even they cannot convict someone without evidence no matter how apparent the person's guilt is." He laughed harshly. "What was the Muggleborn left with? _Compensation_ for slander, of all things. That brute Rosier should be rotting in Azkaban or hell but is instead walking around poncing about his 'innocence'."

He took a deep breath before speaking again. "So, I decided I would do what no one else seems to have the guts to. All credit to them, Harry and Hermione have done a splendid job – but much remains to be accomplished, and by then how many criminals would have slithered out? What I am doing is _not_ without express permission or by violating the laws. As I have already pointed out to both you and Croaker, I am _well within_ my rights to kill the people I have, and I have _never_ initiated the conflict."

"Only finished it," said 004 bitterly, and 007 inclined his head in acknowledgement. 004 sighed. "Seriously, stop thinking so much. It's still not as though you're bound to the job. Take a desk job, work the rest of your days in peace and live happily. Things will become better. You've already helped so much in that, why insist on staying on this path? Think what-" she hesitated. "Think what he would have wanted if he'd been alive."

"But he isn't, is he?" 007 laughed harshly.

"No, he isn't," 004 agreed. "But beating yourself up over it makes no sense. Honour his memory by moving on, by doing something that doesn't bring up those memories. There's a Muggle saying – the best revenge is living well. What you're doing is hardly helping you and your family – why do it then?"

007 smiled, a smile tinged with regret. "Because I think it's the right thing to do. Regardless of your compunctions with my methods, it _has_ proved remarkably effective in helping to reduce crime rates. You remember in the Sixth Year when you forced me to read that Muggle book with lots of pictures and people speaking?"

"A comic, yes."

"There was one of them in which there's a man who disguises himself and tries to rescue a corrupt city by becoming a hero. He becomes a symbol, something that everyone eventually becomes afraid of. The city slowly reforms, and people remain afraid to commit crimes because they fear they will be dealt with by that man."

"Yes, I _know_ , it was Batman. But you're not like him! You have a family, you're not super-rich and you _definitely_ kill much more than he ever did."

"The first two are no reason for me notdoing anything and sitting tight," 007 said. "As for the third – I _have_ completed several field assignments without anyone dying. I have tried to restrain myself and make sure that I don't do something I regret." His eyes burned again. "But when I see one of You-Know-Who's little pets, I feel disgusted. And that rage comes to the fore again." He shrugged. "It becomes difficult to stop when you're like that. Killing may not be needed someday when the laws have finally been implemented the way they should and people are _truly_ scared of the law. Whether you like it or not, fear is the best motivator." He sighed. "When that happens, I will have honoured _his_ memory. Then I will happily retire and live peacefully for the rest of my life."

"Oh?" 004 laughed harshly. "For all the pain that you went through in the war, I'd have expected that you learnt to put yourself in someone else's boots. I'd thought that you'd learnt, that you'd finally understood that you were dealing with _people_ , not books or machines. But you went right back to what you were before the war."

007 flushed angrily. "You think I didn't try? You think I-"

"-went back to being a git because it was the easiest thing to do instead of accepting your mistakes and moving on? Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I think you did."

007's eyes flashed. "They killed my brother!"

"And they killed my best friends! Your entire problem is that you have _never_ been able to see from someone else's point of view! If you think that you were devastated when your brother died, I was _equally_ devastated when my friends died! And if you had _ever_ stopped to consider what your brother would have wanted had he been alive, you would have realized that he would have _never_ condoned killing!" She took a deep breath to calm herself down. "I must admit to you I _honestly_ don't know why I still try to explain things to you. Why I still care for the person that was, before he got a big head and ruined it all." She smiled sadly. "But somewhere, deep down, I still think you can be that person. That kind boy who I once knew and loved. Not the perfect killing machine I see today."

There was an uncomfortable silence after this. Then 007 spoke. "I can't forgive them as easily as you did."

004 laughed, though without malice. "That's a step towards admitting you were a git, at least. It's not as though I haven't thought about it. Heck, I'm no saint. I've had dreams where I had a vindictive pleasure in stabbing one of those bastards through the heart. But I never acted on them in the real world because I _knew_ I could be better than them. You called me out the last time for acting as though I had the moral high ground, but let me tell you something – I do. Because I resisted. I suppressed that part of me, and I won."

She fiddled with her hair, done in a long braid now. 007 found himself admiring her beauty in the soft light beside the fire – her hazel eyes burnt with that sharp wit he admired so much, her cheeks tinted pink due to the cold. He was jolted out of his musings as she spoke again.

"You know, there _is_ one thing you've become much better at than the boy you were in school."

"Oh?"

"That boy could never talk about his emotions so frankly."

007 flushed. "I'll have you know I've matured-"

"Ah, _there_ we go again," 004 teased. "There's that ego I was talking about." Both of them laughed and the tension in the air dissipated.

Silence prevailed for a while before 007 spoke up. "Can I ask you something, if you don't mind?"

"What?"

"What is your gain in all of this? Why do you constantly attempt to make me better? I've done enough and more to repulse you; then _why_ do you persist with trying?"

007 half expected 004 to explode and start off about the moral high-ground. What he did not expect was to hear a snort. "When mum and dad named me, I had no idea I'd grow to be like my namesake." She laughed. "Why do I try? Because I still love that boy you once were – the one I dated. And I still hope that you could be more like him." She smirked. "Less awkward, though. I like this rugged exterior and smooth-talking hunk."

"Hey!"

Then there was laughter and a comfortable silence that stretched for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Ready?" 007 asked 004 in a whisper. She nodded.

007 held up three fingers and counted them off. As the third went down, they both dashed to opposite ends of the little factory that they had been directed to by the business card. 007 was hardly bothered by the guards he encountered, Stunning and binding them with ease. His thoughts flickered, however, thinking of last night's conversation.

 _None of that now_ , he told himself firmly. _Get Rookwood, and we'll see._

He turned with wand in hand to find 004, who nodded. They both snuck into the factory.

The factory was exactly what 007 had seen _every_ time he had been involved in a mission with illicit potion brewing – cauldrons, ingredients and knives lay around along with barrels of the potion, stored. Some things were organized neatly at workstations while others lay in discarded heaps. 007 was surprised that he hadn't seen anything that screamed dark magic yet. _Of course, it's illegal nevertheless._ His eyes hardened. _Not to mention it's Rookwood._ No one was in yet, and 007 turned to look at 004.

"We've got some time, I think. A few minutes to capture evidence?"

She nodded. They painstakingly set about the task of sealing knives, ingredients and ladles in safe containers, along with a sample of the potion itself. Finally, when they were done, 007 put a Notice-Me-Not after keeping it in one of the storerooms.

"Should be easy enough to pick it up after we're done here," he told 004.

They headed back to the main hall…just as the doors opened and men began to enter. Both agents flattened themselves against the walls in a practised motion. 007 craned his neck a bit and was rewarded with the sight of _that man_ – the man who had to burn for his mistakes – _Augustus Rookwood_.

"How many?" 004 whispered.

"Five, and Rookwood is confirmed."

004's eyes widened. "You're going left or right?"

"Darling, I'm _always_ right."

004 rolled her eyes and both of them fanned out, hiding behind the barrels as they made their way up to the place where the men were now standing, discussing something furiously.

"…where on earth are the guards? Do you know how problematic this could prove? What if one of the Aurors shows up?" Rookwood licked his lips and looked around before lowering his voice. "Or even worse, the Unspeakables?"

"Your old work buddies, ain't they boss?"

"Shut your trap and find the guards!"

The men began to look around. 007 waited as one of them came over to behind the barrel he was. Their eyes met and the man began, "Hey-"

A muffled **THUNK!** sounded and the man lay beside 007, Stunned. His keen ears picked up a similar sound from somewhere to the left – clearly, 004 had done the same. _Learnt it from me after the last time,_ he thought, smiling.

He saw two more men coming his way and realized that the fallen body had been poking out from behind the barrel. _Oh shite._

 _You've been distracted lately_ , a part of his mind chided. _I suppose it has nothing to do with a lovely colleague of yours and her rather sensible opinions on your worthless blood-shedding?_

_Quiet. I'm trying to get work done here._

He waited until their eyes met and then swung around the barrel, kicking one squarely in the groin as he fired off a Stunner towards the other man. Both men fell, and one of them was groaning before 007 Stunned him as well. Rookwood had heard the noise, however, and turned to seek the source of the commotion. 004 came out from behind her barrel as well – only Rookwood was left standing.

Rookwood tilted his head curiously before his eyes sparked with recognition. "You?" He laughed. "With the Unspeakables now, I see," he nodded at 007's robes. "My former occupation, you know, before-"

"You killed my brother," 007 said in a voice that belied more emotion than he would have liked.

"I assure you, it was nothing personal. He just happened to-"

" _ **CRUCIO!**_ "

The spell washed over Rookwood who stiffened. Then he laughed. "Have to mean an Unforgivable, boy," he chuckled. "You may have killed others, but you've never used an Unforgivable before, have you?"

"I can hurt you plenty without it," snarled 007.

"Listen-" 004 began, but a quick snap of 007's wand disarmed her and he tucked her wand into her robes. "Stay out of this," he warned. She gulped but stood aside.

He turned back to Rookwood, who was still smiling in that annoyingly patronising manner. "Come on, then. Let's see who wins."

They drew their wands in one fluid motion and the duel began.

Curses flew. Hexes hit ingredients, blowing them to poisonous powder. Barrels rolled and knives flipped through the air. For all his prowess, 007 had to admit that Rookwood was an absolute prodigy at duelling. It was due to age being on his side that 007 was able to put a fight at all, or he suspected he would have been wiped off the floor easily enough.

" _ **FLIPENDO!**_ " A knife flew through the air, whistling past 007's ear as he dodged just in time. " _ **COLLOSHOO!**_ " he returned and was rewarded when Rookwood fell flat on his face as his shoes stuck to the ground.

" _ **INCARCEROUS!**_ " Thick ropes bound Rookwood up and 007 smiled ferally as he walked up to Rookwood, who was still smirking. He kicked him in the jaw and an audible crack could be heard as the bone broke. Rookwood spat out blood as 007 took out his Stygian dagger and whispered in his ear, "You think you know pain?"

He touched it to his temple and it began to steam as Rookwood screamed in agony. 007 continued to smile. He ran it across his forehead in a thin line as it drew blood and the man _howled_.

"007!" 004 pulled him back. Her expression was pleading.

"Please, for once. I know he wronged you, but don't torture him. He's bound up anyway. We'll turn him in and he'll go to Azkaban."

"And what about my revenge?" 007 breathed. "What about my brother's life? Does that have no value?" He looked at Rookwood, absolute loathing writ on his face. "Does this scum not deserve to die?"

"Your brother's life does matter," 004 began, shaken by 007's vehemence. "But killing is not something the boy I knew would do." 004 was crying now, tears flowing down her face. "You're not like him or any of them." Her hazel eyes were rimmed with tears as she said, "Your brother wouldn't have wanted this."

" **MY BROTHER IS DEAD**!" roared 007, and 004 shrank back in fear. He inhaled deeply, his heart torn apart by conflicting feelings. On one hand, there was revenge and on the other hand, a chance to be better. Someone better than the Death Eaters. A happy life, free of any desire for revenge, content with what he had and moving on.

Then his heart hardened as he remembered his brother's body lying in the halls of Hogwarts. His eyes burnt as he recalled those open eyes, that young face which laughed even in the face of death. And 007 knew what he had to do, no matter what the alternatives. His heart was still heavy, but he knew. _There is only one way._

He leaned into Rookwood's ear, whispering, "This is for Fred, you bastard."

And Percy Weasley slammed the dagger into Rookwood's chest.

* * *

There was a moment of white shock.

Then Penelope Clearwater cried, "Percy!" and ran over.

Rookwood's shirt was soaked with blood, and the man's eyes were rolling in his head. His screams of agony were slowly increasing in volume and the dagger protruded from his chest grotesquely. Percy calmly pulled it out and wiped it on his clothes. Penelope was casting diagnostic charms in the meanwhile, muttering under her breath. " _Just_ barely missed his heart," she said, glaring at Percy. Percy stared back coolly. "What?"

"Do you have any idea how much you scared me? For a second you looked like one of the Death Eaters! What on Earth possessed you to try and use the Stygian dagger on him! Do you know-"

"Yes, I do," he said, staring at Penelope, his face a mask of white fury. "I know it would have sucked the life out of him slowly had I stabbed him in the heart, made him wish he had died a thousand times over before he actually died. Iknow, and I _almost_ did. But he isn't dead, isn't he?" He looked at the spasming Death Eater. "Shame, that."

Penelope backhanded Percy across the cheek _hard_ and he staggered with the force of the blow. His cheek smarted, and a large red handprint was beginning to form. "Shut up, you fucking prick," Penelope spat. "You _nearly tortured someone to death!_ Do you even _realize_ what you've become?"

Percy laughed bitterly. "No, do _you_ realize who you're defending? That's _Augustus Rookwood!_ Most Wanted Death Eater, _known_ for killing people in vicious and savage ways and most recently running a narcotics operation killing _innocent Muggles._ And you talk to me about the moral high ground?"

Penelope raised her hand again and Percy recoiled; she dropped her hand and exhaled deeply. She tried to speak, but no words came out and she turned back to cast charms over the prone Death Eater. "He needs Mungo's, stat. I'm Portkeying out. You call the clean-up team and take the evidence back to the head office."

Penelope flashed out with Rookwood and Percy went about his task with robotic efficiency – but his thoughts were elsewhere. He had felt guilt many times over his actions, but every time he had convinced himself that it was right – that the people who had killed Fred deserved to die. In front of the very man who had killed his brother, however, something had snapped. _The fact that I was willing to torture him to death…_

He forced himself to breathe and go about his task, his mind weighed down heavily with guilt and remorse.

* * *

"Percy!" Molly exclaimed joyfully. "Haven't seen you in a long time! Work proving difficult?"

"Something like that, yes," Percy said tiredly.

Molly's eyes widened. "You've been through the wars, young man!" she snapped as she ran her hand across a scar on his face. "I hope you're not planning to get busted every time they give you a field mission?" she asked pointedly.

"No, no," Percy denied. "I'll try my best to stay in one piece."

Molly clicked her tongue disapprovingly at his casual dismissal. She suddenly hugged him tight, and Percy reciprocated. "It's good to see you, Percy."

"Feels good to be back, mum."

"Come on in, we've got rhubarb pie for dessert tonight. Your favourite!" She looked at her pie regretfully. "If I'd known you were coming, I'd have made more."

Percy laughed. "I'm sure there's enough, Mum."

Dinner was a fun affair, and Percy realized for the first time exactly how distant he had become after Fred's death. Sure, he'd shown up for the occasional dinner or birthday, but his mind had never truly been in it. For the first time in many years, he appreciated the little things. It was _extraordinary_ how all the little things were so enjoyable – a weight had fallen off his shoulders. _I'm not going to cut them off again,_ he promised to himself fiercely. _I'll keep in touch_.

After dinner, he spotted Harry alone outside the house, gazing into the distance. He slid up to him.

"Oh, hey Perce. How's work?"

"Mopped up the narcotics gang," Percy said casually. "Thought you'd want to know."

Harry nodded. "That's great." They stood quietly for a moment before Harry spoke up. "Does it feel better? Knowing he's dead?"

Guilt twisted through Percy's heart like a dagger. _Does Harry really think I kill everyone?_

 _Of course he does,_ a part of him retorted. _Until yesterday, you_ _ **did**_ _kill everyone._

"He's not dead – in Mungo's for now. Official report's not out yet, but most likely he'll be tried next week. Azkaban is for certain."

Harry looked at Percy, surprised. "You left him alive?" His face coloured deeply as he realized what he had said. "I mean, I wouldn't have faulted you on this one. I know we haven't always agreed on our methods, but I do respect that you took it on yourself. Can't be easy, living with that guilt." He looked at Percy, his face tumultuous with emotion. "Wanted to let you know – crime rates are down for the sixth consecutive month. Just this one and that Muggleborn case."

Percy nodded, his face a tight mask. Inside, guilt and happiness surged through him in equal measure. _Guilt over failing to kill Rookwood. Happiness at failing to kill Rookwood._ He sighed internally, his thoughts swirling in an all-consuming maelstrom as he gazed into the distance, trying to find some peace.

* * *

"…in light of his crimes against several upstanding members of society and blatant violation of the Statute of Secrecy, Augustus Rookwood has been sentenced for life in Azkaban."

Croaker looked up from the report at Percy. "Excellent job, 007! I see you've even managed to not kill them this time around." Percy made an embarrassed noise and Penelope rolled her eyes. "It's not as if he didn't come close," she said bitterly.

"Right. Well, excellent work on this mission. 004, you can get started on that intel we've received about some diplomatic blowout with Bulgaria. I think someone used the wrong vowel again and they misinterpreted something, but you better check because they're threatening to escalate." Penelope sniggered and turned to leave. "No field missions immediately available, 007. I'll let you know when the next one's ready."

"Actually, sir, I wanted to speak to you about that." Penelope's hand froze on the door.

"Oh?"

"I've become rather weary with all the field missions, so I was thinking of becoming a part-timer. I'd rather like to stick to paperwork unless an extremely nasty case shows up."

Croaker looked at Percy wide-eyed. "Are you kidding me?"

"Um, no, sir."

Croaker continued to look at Percy as though he'd gone mad. "Very well, I'll shift you. But if there's something particularly bad, I want you out there!"

"Of course, sir."

A smirking Percy walked out of the office alongside a surprised Penelope.

"So, what's the catch?"

"Beg your pardon?"

Penelope rolled her eyes again. "What's the catch? Going to become a night-time vigilante and gallivant about killing former Death Eaters?"

Shock and hurt passed across Percy's face, and Penelope realized that he'd been genuinely hurt.

"Look, I-"

"Look, I-"

They stared at each other, surprised. Penelope barked a short laugh and motioned Percy to continue.

"I didn't mean to do what I did that day. I lost control, and I'm sorry about that. I thought over what you said, and I've come to realize that you weren't wrong. Fred wouldn't have wanted me to beat myself up. Neither would he have wanted me to kill someone. Heck, the most he would have likely agreed to would have been to supply his sweets and prank the Death Eaters wild."

Penelope chuckled, and Percy smiled sadly. "But I still have a duty to myself to ensure that things don't deteriorate further. So, I've decided – no obsessive field missions or high death tolls. But if something bad turns up on the radar, it'll be fair game for me. The rest of the time, I'm gonna keep things simple and just try to live well like you said."

Penelope looked at him curiously. Then she stepped right into his arms and hugged him tightly. After a moment, Percy put his arms around her, too. They stayed like that for a minute before embarrassment set in and they stepped away.

"It's a good start," Penelope said encouragingly. "Trust me, things will get better as you get used to it. I know." Her face coloured. "And I apologize for taunting you like that. I thought about some of the things you said too, and you were right. Our society isn't exactly in the ideal place that I liked to think it was. Muggleborns still face discrimination and criminals still escape far too often." She looked at Percy in the eye. "Your methods may not be the best ones, but I can't deny they've been more effective – too many of my missions have had people wriggling out even after more or less solid evidence from my end." She sighed. "That being said, what you did yesterday was…chilling. Damnit Perce, do you have _any_ idea how scared I was? How frightening you were in that blind rage?"

Percy nodded slowly, and Penelope continued, "I know you've apologized, but I can't forget or forgive what you've done." Percy's eyes fell but his shoulders remained square. "But I do understand, at least. So, I've decided that _every_ single mission henceforth I'm going to come with you."

Percy looked up, surprised.

"I'm going to be there to keep a check on you. I failed yesterday, but not anymore. I'm not going to allow you to do anything horrific. But within your rights?" She shrugged. "No more indiscriminate killing. We _discuss_ a mission before we accept it. But if someone _truly_ deserves something…" she smiled, and Percy was shocked to see how scary it could be. "You're not breaking any laws, are you?"

Percy stared at Penelope incredulously. "Who are you and what have you done to Penelope Clearwater? Where did your strong moral conviction go?"

Penelope scowled fiercely. "It's still very much there. If you even get close to doing what you did yesterday, I swear on Merlin I will _not_ be so understanding a second time." Her face softened. "With time and effort, we can still be a force that people will fear. It doesn't necessarily need a lot of bloodshed. Choosing the right examples – and only those who deserve it – should be enough. If we do that, then I can live with a bit of guilt if it means a better life for the rest of Wizarding Britain."

She scowled again at Percy. "So, if you're thinking I'm going to allow you to just walk in and slaughter a gang like you did with the Bisons, think again. I _still_ don't agree with what you've done. But rather than oppose you and only antagonize you further, it makes much more sense for me to compromise. Bit-by-bit, you'll start to see things my way too as you work with me."

Percy looked at her, amused. "Still not giving up on me?"

Penelope smiled back. " _Never_."

Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment – hazel and brown – before they walked back to their desks.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> My first one-shot! Would love to hear in the reviews from you about how many of you managed to guess the identity of 007. 
> 
> Also, if you liked this story, you might also like my other fic (which is long-form and tonally very different - Harry Potter and the Enigmatic Professor Riddle. It features a Tom Marvolo Riddle who chose to be smarter to achieve his sinister end goals. 
> 
> Until next time!


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